


Right Here

by cyankelpie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Everyone's scared but at least they have each other, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Near-confessions, Scared Aziraphale, Scared Crowley (Good Omens), The Night At Crowley's Flat (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 01:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21365884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyankelpie/pseuds/cyankelpie
Summary: The puddle of ooze that used to be Ligur was still there on the study floor, still smoking a little even hours later, completely forgotten in Crowley’s hurry to leave the flat. Oh, no. Crowley snapped his fingers to miracle away the mess. “I-I’m sorry, angel,” he stuttered, coming to stand next to Aziraphale. “You shouldn’t have had to see—”Aziraphale spun into him, grabbed for him blindly, and came up with two fistfuls of shirt. “Crowley—”“I know— sorry—” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s elbows to steady him. He felt sick, thinking of what this must look like, of what he must look like. “It was self defense, please believe me—”“That could have been you.”(Crowley forgot to clean his flat in his hurry to stop the apocalypse, and Aziraphale sees something he wasn't supposed to)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 298
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	Right Here

Crowley threw open the door to his flat and flicked the light switch with a flourish and a “Let there be light,” which got a tiny laugh from Aziraphale. “Right,” he said, stepping inside and gesturing around at the sparse hallway and dim lighting. “Welcome. It’s a bit different from…” he hesitated to mention Aziraphale’s beloved bookshop, which currently only existed in the form of a blackened skeleton of a building and a pile of ash. “…From your place, but it’ll serve for now.”

Aziraphale stepped inside and looked around. “It’s…nice,” he said doubtfully. “Lots of space.”

“Loads.” _A bit too much. _“So,” he said, leading Aziraphale down the central hallway. “Study through that door, kitchen’s over there. Bed, in there…I know you don’t sleep, but in case you wanted a nap…”

“What’s that there?” Aziraphale stepped forward, looking at the eagle statue at the end of the hall. The one Crowley had taken from the rubble of a bombed-out church that one night in 1941. “It looks familiar. That isn’t—”

“Erm, just a decoration,” said Crowley, waving dismissively at the statue, a flush creeping into his face. “Ignore that. Plants through there. Got a few chairs in the study, if you want to sit down someplace.” He looked around, wishing he had more to show. Perhaps he should have furnished his place a little better, or at least, a little more. “Well, make yourself at home. I’ll see if I can’t find us some tea.”

“Tea would be lovely,” muttered Aziraphale. “I’ll just have a look around, I suppose.”

“Be with you in a minute.” Crowley retreated into the kitchen, where he banged around some of the pots and pans that he never used until he managed to find a kettle buried somewhere in the back of a drawer. He didn’t actually own any tea, so he conjured a tin of jasmine with a snap of his fingers. It would taste almost the same. Aziraphale would know the difference, but it was better than nothing.

He put the kettle on to boil, rummaged around for some cups, and then busied himself washing out the glasses he had left unwashed in the sink. He usually kept his flat fairly clean and sparse, but all the same, he was hardly prepared for visitors.

“Crowley, these plants are lovely,” Aziraphale called from the other room. “I’ve never seen such color. And such flawless leaves. How do you—” He cut off with a sudden cry.

“Angel?” The glass Crowley had been cleaning clattered into the sink as he turned. Neither of them had expected heaven and hell to come for them so quickly. “Aziraphale!” Crowley ran into the other room, drying his soapy hands on his pants as best he could. “Aziraph—”

He found the angel in the doorway between the plant room and the study, his back pressed to the doorframe for support, gasping for breath. The puddle of ooze that used to be Ligur was still there on the study floor, still smoking a little even hours later, completely forgotten in Crowley’s hurry to leave the flat. _Oh, no._ Crowley snapped his fingers to miracle away the mess. “I-I’m sorry, angel,” he stuttered, coming to stand next to Aziraphale. “You shouldn’t have had to see—”

Aziraphale spun into him, grabbed for him blindly, and came up with two fistfuls of shirt. “Crowley—”

“I know— sorry—” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s elbows to steady him. He felt sick, thinking of what this must look like, of what he must look like. He hadn’t yet mentioned to Aziraphale that he’d killed another demon, and with the holy water Aziraphale had trusted him enough to give him. “It was self defense, please believe me—”

“That could have been you.”

_Oh._ “It—it’s alright,” he stuttered, the words tripping over each other on their way out. He folded his arms around Aziraphale, hoping that would help with the shaking. “Wasn’t me. I’m here.”

“—C-could have been—”

“It’s alright. I’m here, I’m right here.”

_Stupid, _he thought to himself. _Should have cleaned it up. No need to scare him like that._ “I’m here,” he repeated over and over, and silently added, _and you’re here, you’re still alive, you didn’t burn to a crisp in Soho._ The fire in the bookshop and the pain of losing him still burned fresh in his memory, and tired as he was, he couldn’t do much to hold them back anymore. Then he was shaking too, standing there with his arms around the angel, repeating, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here…”

Never, in six thousand years, had Aziraphale been this close to him. Aziraphale seemed to come to the realization at the same time, because he tensed, and Crowley waited for him to pull away and clear his throat and pretend nothing had happened. Except he didn’t. Detaching his hands from Crowley’s shirt, he slid them out from between the two of them and wrapped them around Crowley. “I’m so glad,” he said, his voice trembling a little.

Crowley’s heart twisted with a million things he wanted to way. He wanted to tell Aziraphale that everything would be okay now. He wanted to say that he was here and always would be for as long as Aziraphale wanted him. He wanted to stand here holding the angel like this until his arms cramped and his legs gave out. But heaven and hell were out for their blood now, and if their plan went sideways, there was a very real chance that this would be the last time they saw each other.

With that thought in mind, Crowley drew a deep breath. “Erm, Aziraphale,” he began, his throat dry. He felt like he should be looking at the angel’s face as he said this, but he didn’t know if he could manage to finish the thought if he did. “Sssomething I’ve been wanting to get off my chest…”

“Don’t.”

The word hit Crowley like a hammer to the ribcage. His entire body felt like it had turned to lead. So that was how it was. After all this time, after everything that had happened, Aziraphale didn’t even want to hear it. But he had seemed…Crowley had been so sure…

“Tell me later,” said Aziraphale. “After we pull off the switch.”

Crowley blinked, processing the words, and all the heaviness inside him lifted. He made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. Aziraphale really was one hell of a motivator. “Right,” he agreed. “Later.”

A high whistle rang through the flat, and Crowley jolted away from Aziraphale. “Oh, the tea—I forgot—” He gave the angel an apologetic look.

“I’ll still be here,” said Aziraphale, smiling.

Crowley hurried into the kitchen to take the kettle off the stove. His hands jittered, but most of the fear had left him. Heaven and hell would not get them, he would make sure of it. Their plan would work. It had to, now.

**Author's Note:**

> Aziraphale Ziraphale "Come up with something or I'll never talk to you again" Fell, everybody!


End file.
